


Sundogs & Shadowplay

by Kicaelum



Category: Night World - L. J. Smith
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4298826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kicaelum/pseuds/Kicaelum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celia Slone grew up knowing the Nightworld. Her friends are vampires and witches, shapeshifters and prophets. When a mysterious organisation starts hunting them, she finds herself caught in the middle of a war between human and inhuman...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The lyrics bracketing this chapter are taken from Tom McRae's song 'Line of Fire'

**Sundogs and Shadowplay**

I

_Suddenly, suddenly you were warned_ __  
Shooting stars in flight from the dawn  
I'm the breath on your face  
You think you are safe…  
I am watching you

The first day back at school was always strange. Celia was prepared for that.

But nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to find in her locker. Her hands were busy fiddling with the rusty combination lock. Her attention, however, was on Finlay Farrier as he gesticulated wildly, his dark blue eyes alight.

"...swear it was a banshee, an honest-to-god screeching banshee, right there on the roof!"

"Banshees exist?" she said.

Every time Celia thought she understood the Nightworld, something else popped up to surprise her. She wasn't supposed to know about it at all, technically, but Ryars Valley wasn't known for its law-abiding supernatural citizens. It was a refuge of sorts, a bolthole for the rebellious, foolish or downright unlucky.

"Not only do they exist, it turns out that they're partial to terracotta tiling. Holds the heat better, apparently."

"So what happened? I can't imagine your dad took it too well."

The witch gave her a wry look. Mr Farrier was notoriously hysterical about the unfortunate things which occurred when teenagers invaded his house. Add in the fact she was only human in their circle of friends and suddenly his panicky eyes and need to mainline camomile tea were explained. "No. He screamed something about the guttering and started throwing apples at it."

"Come off it!"

"That's what he said." Over her groan, he carried on. "Of course, the banshee just screamed even louder and all the apples exploded in mid-air. Me and Dad were covered in pulp, and he was starting to look a bit embarrassed, until he noticed its scream had also deadheaded every last one of his begonias."

Celia winced. Finn's dad was very attached to his flowers. "Not good."

"No. And then he  _screams_ -"

Her locker swung open with the usual tortured creak.

"-what the hell is that?" yelped Finn. It took her a moment to realise it wasn't part of his story.

She followed his aghast stare and a frisson of unease ran through her. Someone had sprayed graffiti inside her locker in sloppy yellow letters.

_Vamp tramp._

As first day pranks went, it was pretty mild. "Fashion critique, I guess," she said, touching it to find the paint dry. "I knew those fishnets last semester were a bad idea."

"That's not what it means." Finn was tight-lipped, taut as a hound on point. He reached past to slam the locker shut. She flinched at the noise, discord to the chatter and laughter around them.

"Explain then."

"Later. When there's less people about."

The sharp scent of ozone rode the air, a sure sign that Finn was angry. The witch had a fiery temper, and that was more than mere metaphor. She eyed his ginger hair. No smoke. Good: there was nothing like trying to hustle a raging bundle of magical hormones outside before his hair combusted.

"Finn, are you okay?" she said tentatively.

"Like I said, later." He gave her a tight, grim smile. "I'm trying not to go all Human Torch on-"

"Oh my god!"

The shriek split the air like lightning. Everyone turned to look, conversations dying away.

Across the hall, Grace Thelasso was hugging herself, stood in a clutter of books that she'd clearly dropped. And on the inside of her locker door was more graffiti, yellow and lurid.

_Catch of the day._

But that, Celia suspected, wasn't what had made her scream.

No, the very dead, very rotten fish dripping out of her locker had probably done it.

Celia's stomach turned. Grace was a dolphin shapeshifter. And that...that was one sick message.

Grace was gasping like she was caught between tears and screams, her face yoghurt-white against her dark hair, and no one seemed to want to go near her. As the smell hit, Celia could see why: it had clearly been stewing in there for some time.

"Finn..." she said, trying not to breathe too deeply.

"Yeah, I see it," he murmured.

Grace stared into her locker, shivering. Then her legs crumpled and she hit the floor with an almighty thud. Chaos erupted – people rushed to her, a throng of waving hands and overlapping voices while Grace lay as still and pale as a slaughtered swan in the middle of it all.

"Do you know first aid? Should we put her in the recovery position?"

"-is  _disgusting_ , what is  _wrong_  with people?"

"-like that. And check her airway – that's what they do on  _House_ …"

"-reeks. Eugh, at least she didn't leave anything in there."

The bell for first period shrilled. Around them, the hallway started to empty out. Even with first day dramas, no one wanted to be tardy this soon.

Finn nudged her, voice muted. "Did they leave anything in your locker?"

God, she hoped not. Visions of dead bugs from a hundred B-movies flashed before her. A quick glance showed nothing out of the ordinary, but she poked through her books to be sure. "Just paint. Guess I was lucky."

Finn caught her arm. His eyes were dark blue slits, his fingers hot as if he'd been baking under the sun for hours. As he hustled her away, he sounded grim. "Maybe. But whoever it is, they know about the Nightworld."

She heard what he didn't say, what made his grip a little too hard, his steps a little too fast.

Not just the Nightworld: us.

-X-

Celia drifted through her classes in a daze, ears pricked for gossip. Everyone was talking about Grace, if not with any great accuracy. Rumour said she was pregnant, she had life-threatening meningitis, her boyfriend had ditched her, a storm of half-truths and outright lies told behind cupped hands.

By the time lunch rolled around, she was desperate for answers.

"You," she said, collaring Finn as he clumped out of history class. "Outside, now."

The hill at the edge of campus belonged unofficially to their circle of friends. So it was no great surprise to see Delphine Thetis already there, her long red hair in a plait, picking at a limp salad.

"Phi!" Finn brightened, hauling her up into a huge, theatrical hug. "How are you?"

There was more to that question than social mores. Phi's grey eyes were soft and a little sad as she settled back down. "Okay. Getting used to it. It's still weird without Mom." She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "And it's even weirder being human."

He rocked a hand. "Could be worse. If you were still mer, it might be you finding dead fish in your locker."

Phi frowned. "It's true then? No one in the pod would talk to me."

Before summer, Phi had been a dolphin shapeshifter, just like Grace Thelasso. She'd been their golden girl, and her father had been their leader.

But when her parents had arranged a marriage for her, the only way she could escape it was to give up her powers. That, it turned out, wasn't enough for her former fiancée. Far from being an ideal husband, he was in fact a power-hungry maniac who'd enlisted a dragon and the local werewolf pack to help him wrest control from Phi's dad.

In the ensuing struggle, it had all gotten incredibly messy. Some nights, Celia still woke up gasping for air, surfacing from nightmares of a cave where her friends lay dying, from a forest where she had been tortured. If it all seemed unreal, she had only to look at her little finger which had never healed entirely straight after the wolves broke it.

"Still?" Finn snorted. "They're idiots. It's true. And she's not the only one."

"Who else?" said Phi, looking intrigued.

Celia raised her hand.

"Really?"

"Really," she confirmed. "Just graffiti in mine." Then she prodded Finn in the leg. "And you're going to tell me exactly what it means and why you got all crabby."

"You too, darling?" A shadow fell over her, cast by a girl as effortlessly styled as a model. All long brown legs and lime-green eyes, Joana Katter looked every inch the wildcat she became. "That makes three then."

"Who's the other one?" she asked. "Me, Grace..."

"Nessa Arlin." Celia knew her by sight: a bubbly blond cheerleader who happened to be a witch.

"What did they leave her?" said Finn, an edge to his voice.

" _Suffer not a witch_ ," answered Jo, distaste curling her mouth. "There was a burnt bit of meat in her locker too."

Some joke this was. "I think it's time you told me what mine meant," Celia said to Finn. "Why were you so mad?"

"Wait, what did yours say?" Jo asked.

" _Vamp tramp_. Whatever that means."

Phi's eyes flashed to her, wide. Jo's fingers flexed as if she wished she had claws.

"Tell her," instructed Phi.

Heaving a sigh, Finn lay back on the grass. His face was thoughtful as he gazed up at the sky. "It's a Nightworld term, sort of, from the enclaves. It's what they call the volunteers. The ones who let the vampires do what they want."

"You mean feed?" He shook his head, and Celia got it. "You mean  _whatever_ they want."

"Yeah. You get fed from too often, your hormones get screwed up. It gets addictive. Eventually you can't tell the difference between pleasure and pain, which suits the vampires just fine. My aunt..." His eyes were half-closed, his voice deceptively tranquil. "She got caught up. My dad tried to get her out, and he pissed off a lot of important people doing it. That's why he and Mom moved here."

"What happened to your aunt?"

"She died. I didn't even know about her until last year." He cracked a rueful grin. "You remember I went on a date with Lily Michelmas? Yeah. Dad gave me a big pep talk about the dangers of dating a vampire. Told me all about Aunt Gwen, blissed out while they peeled off her skin. I told him there hadn't even been any tongue, never mind teeth and lifelong addiction, but no, no, he had to leave me with that mental picture before I went out with one of the only girls who can see past the hair."

Celia laughed, and it helped a little. "Finn, it's not the hair. It's the fact you flirt with anything that breathes."

"Not  _anything_ ," he said indignantly. "Only  _pretty_ things."

"Speaking of pretty things," said Jo, "Someone obviously knows about Riose. And they think he's feeding on Cee."

Celia sputtered.

"Of course I'm not," said a cool voice, and Celia looked up as the object of their conversation arrived.

Riose Orage came from an old and respectable vampire family. At first glance, he was lean as a sword, an unsmiling, unobtrusive boy with dark hair, but that was all part of his camouflage. He moved with a panther's silky grace, and those narrow turquoise eyes took in everything and gave away almost nothing. Unless, of course, you happened to know him well enough to see past the diffident act.

"We know you're not," said Jo with her usual impatience. "But our little doodlebugs think differently."

His attention swung to Celia. "The graffiti guys? Did they leave you a message?"

"They tagged my locker," she said cautiously.

His mouth drew tight. Riose's voice was very calm as he said, "With what?"

" _Vamp tramp_."

Silver spiked through his eyes like lightning. Jo flinched and touched her temples as if she had a headache. Finn was looking similarly pained, which meant Riose's anger was leaking out into the air like carbon monoxide. At times like this, Celia was glad she was human and as supernaturally sensitive as a polystyrene cup.

"It's probably a joke," she suggested, though she couldn't even convince herself of that.

"Hilarious," snapped Riose. "Nothing gets them rolling in the aisles like death threats."

"It's sick, but it's just words," said Jo. She shrugged at Riose's incensed look. "Not saying I agree, Ri. Remember when Will Ratner set the fire alarms off in the middle of winter? That wasn't fun either, but it was harmless."

"I don't like it," the vampire said, but some of the tension left his body.

"Well, neither do I," said Celia. "And if it happens again, then we'll worry. But I want to grill Phi about her sexy reborn soulmate-"

Finn let out an enormous groan. "He's too old!"

"He's only been alive for a month," said Phi somewhat shyly.

"This time round!" objected Finn. "Before that he was twenty thousand years older than you. That's not an age gap, Phi, that's an age Grand Canyon. And he's a phoenix. He's completely ruined my monopoly on spontaneous combustion."

Celia giggled at his outraged expression, and in the wave of protestations and confidences and laughter that followed, she almost forgot the slur defacing her locker and all that it might mean.

-X-

"Well, we survived," announced Finn as he caught up with Celia by the gates. "Day one of junior year is over."

"Hey, Farrier!" A long-legged black boy loped up to them. "When's the party?"

Finn gave him that weird upright hand clasp that seemed to be some kind of male bonding thing. Celia had tried it with Finn once and he'd looked at her in much the same way as she imagined Victorian maiden aunts looked at debutantes when they used the salad fork for the fish course. "Hey Arch, how was summer?"

"Not bad, not bad." Arch wrinkled his nose, looking very much like the hare he shapeshifted into. "So c'mon, where and when?"

Finn was the oldest in their year, and his birthday almost always fell in the first week of the semester. Consequently, it had become something of an event. In the last two years, there had been more break-ups, make-ups and shake-ups than the average soap opera season.

"Friday. You free?"

"For one of your parties? I'm always free. Usual place?"

"Yup. Out in the barn. The parents are taking off for the weekend. Any chance you can bring over a couple of speakers?"

Arch grinned. It was easy to see where his nickname had come from: he'd started life as Evander Gabriel, but had become Archangel ten minutes into freshman year after someone made the obvious joke. Even if he didn't behave like one, when he smiled, he looked the part. "Maybe. Any chance you can give them back in one piece this year?"

"Hey, I didn't knock them over," said Finn, and in tandem, they looked at her. Figured.

"Jo was the one who danced on them!" she protested, hands held up to declaim her innocence.

"Yeah, but I seem to remember  _someone_  assuring me that they were designed to take her weight," said Finn.

"Yep, that rings a bell," agreed Arch, eyes twinkling. "And if Riose hadn't held you back, I'm pretty sure you'd have been up there defying the laws of physics."

"You were holding Nessa back," she pointed out.

Arch's amusement faded into a frown. "Yeah. You know, she thought that graffiti crap in her locker today was me? I mean, I was kind of a jerk, and the break-up was messy, but..."

"Any idea who it was?" she said lightly.

He shrugged, a line between his brows. "Not me. Like I told Ness." He hefted his bag over his shoulder with a faint look of alarm. "Speak of the devil woman..."

With a turn of speed that explained why he was a track star, Arch shot out of the gates as Nessa walked down the stairs with a gaggle of friends. From the daggers the cheerleader glared at his back, she wasn't convinced of his innocence.

As she passed them, her glower melted into a smile full of sunshine. "Yours Friday?" she called to Finn.

He tipped her a wink. "You can be mine any day of the week, Ness."

"Arch'll kill you if he finds out," Celia muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

"I'll be discreet," said he for whom discretion was merely a winning word in Scrabble. He slung a friendly arm around her. "Whereas you, my gorgeous tramp, are clearly not."

"That's vamp tramp to you, Farrier." She grinned at him. "Hey, what do they call a witch's servants?"

He paused, looking pensive. Then he said, "Well, I call mine Phi and Celia..."

The elbow in his ribs, she considered, was entirely deserved.

-X-

Celia took the same route home she always did, through the centre of town. And everything felt normal again – the words in her locker were shut away, half-forgotten. The sun beat down on her, heat soaking into her skin like oil in a warm bath, while hard glints of light danced from glass and metal.

And then she saw a bright flash at the corner of her eye that didn't vanish as she moved, tucked down an alleyway.

That shade of yellow was eerily familiar.

She hesitated, then turned down the alleyway. And it was revealed. Huge straggling letters covered the brick wall. That in itself wasn't odd: every town had graffiti and Ryars Valley was no exception. But the words sent a chill crawling down her spine.

_There will be a reckoning._

There was something else, too, at the end of it. Two concentric circles overlaid by an inverted V. It seemed deliberate, but it meant nothing to her. She drifted closer, hardly aware of anything else. Tentative, Celia brushed the paint with her fingertips. Dry.

A reckoning...

Someone touched her arm and she screeched, turning on them with flailing hands.

Her frankly pathetic attack was neutralized in seconds by a firm grip around her wrists. She met turquoise eyes, familiar and just a touch amused.

"Only me," Riose said. "Can I let go, or are you going to flap at me again?"

She scowled. "I wasn't flapping."

"You were." His thumb was brushing the inside of her wrist in a soft, absent motion that she couldn't seem to ignore. "Some self-defence that was. Your mom would be outraged."

As it always did, the memory of her mother demonstrating judo moves on Riose and Finn brought a smile to her lips. "I was distracted."

"I can see why," he remarked, his attention flicking to the wall. He let go of her, but not before she felt a momentary tightness in his grip. "They've been busy, haven't they?"

"Whoever they are," she said.

His jaw was set. There was something less than human in his eyes as he regarded that lurid threat, something of a predator's pitiless regard. "I have the feeling we'll find out soon enough."

She made a face. "I hope not."

He didn't look at her, but there was something low and fierce in his voice as he said, "If they come near you, they'll have me to deal with."

"I can deal with them myself, thank you," she retorted. "You might have snuck up on me like a ninja-"

"I called your name. Twice."

"-like a ninja who talks very quietly," she amended with a frosty stare.

"I shouted, actually."

With a huff, Celia carried on. "-but if the Spray Team come anywhere near me, I'll do exactly what Mom taught me to do."

Riose looked sceptical.

"Give them the Slone knee and run like hell," she clarified.

The corner of his mouth crooked up. "That sounds like your mom. I guess I should be glad she didn't demonstrate that move on me."

"Nah." Celia linked an arm through his and began to steer him back to the main street. "She likes you."

"No, she doesn't. And stop trying to distract me. This isn't just someone messing around in school now, Cee. This is something bigger."

"It's graffiti," she said. "It's some idiot with an aerosol and too much time."

"Maybe you're right. Or maybe they're saying what others want to. There's a reason we keep what we are secret. When humans find out we exist, it goes one of three ways. They hate us or they fear us or they envy us."

His certainty hurt. She stopped, dropping his arm, and he turned to gaze at her, quizzical, as if he couldn't see that his words had separated them like the bars of a jail. Him is his world, dark and wild, her in hers.

"And which one am I?" she said.

The silence bristled like a thicket full of nettles.

His face became expressionless, but she had seen that stillness in him before. It was practiced, his instinct when he was threatened or unsure, assessing the danger like a trained professional.

And that...well, that wasn't so far from the truth.

Riose had been an assassin once.

Celia supposed that she should have been afraid of him, knowing what he had been and what he still was. She had seen the monster peering through his eyes, a cold merciless thing that wore human form like clothing.

But they'd grown up together. And she could pretend that she'd never suspected anything, but it wouldn't be entirely true. The clues had been there.

Even when they were kids, he'd never cried over scraped knees or bruises. He'd never talked about his summers, never sent postcards, but he came back with new scars and exhaustion in every step. And once, when they were eight or nine, playing games and laughing over dumb jokes, he'd looked at her with wistful, wondering eyes, like she was a tiger in a zoo, a creature from a world he didn't really understand.

Like he was looking at her right now, the mask slipping away to leave her friend stood there.

"The exception," Riose said, and how could she ever fear him?

"Right answer," she said firmly, hiding the relief that swamped her. Celia looped her arm through his and it was easier to look at those sinister yellow words then, as if he anchored her. "Know what you win?"

That wrung a small smile from him. "Go on."

"A once-in-a-lifetime chance to help me decide what to get Finn for his birthday."

Riose gave her a look but let her steer him out of the alleyway. "Pretty sure that's a once-in-a-year chance."

"He's eyeing up Nessa Arlin. You think he'll make it to eighteen if Arch finds out?"

"Good point. Lead the way, then."

And as they left the alley behind, the threat seemed as overblown as a pantomime villain. Still, a tiny part of her recognised that to those hostile eyes, hidden in the shadows, she seemed exactly what they thought. A vampire's plaything, on his arm like a favourite pet.

But even if it was real, what could they do? After all, she knew better than anyone else: they were only human.

_I'm the voice that you hear  
When no one is near  
I am watching you  
'Cause you're in the line  
Line of fire_

-X-

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from Trouble is a Friend by Lenka

**Sundogs and Shadowplay**

**II**

_Trouble, he will find you, no matter where you go_  
_No matter if you’re fast, no matter if you’re slow_  
_The eye of the storm or the cry in the morn_  
_You’re fine for a while but you start to lose control…_

 

Like the Queen and other notable luminaries, Finn had an official and an unofficial birthday. The official one would happen on Friday, and was loosely controlled carnage.

 Only a select few were invited to the unofficial birthday, and nearly all of them were there as Celia shouldered open the creaky garden gate, balancing a potato salad in one hand and a large carrot cake in the other.

 “What time d’you call this?” shouted Finn from where he and Riose were wrestling with a gazebo. From the harassed look on Ri’s face, it wasn’t going well.

 She held up the platter, flinging him a smile as sweet as the butter icing. “Time you had cake?”

 “Not yet. I’m going to get this thing up if it kills me,” declared the witch.

   “It probably will,” murmured Jo from where she was painting her toenails on the grass. A pair of huge sunglasses hid her eyes, but not her smile. “This is attempt number four.”

 There was a sky-rattling clatter as the entire structure folded like a house of cards onto Finn. Furious swearing followed, only partially muffled by the canvas.

 “Five,” corrected Phi as she dropped the fairylights she was untangling to help Riose fish out a sputtering Finn.

  Mrs Farrier glanced over from the barbecue, entirely unconcerned by the plight of her firstborn. “Finlay, while your father and I remain astounded by your vocabulary, I don’t think _anyone_ can do that with a pogo stick, even if they are the messiah.”

  Finn kicked at the canvas. “This thing is cursed!”

 Daniel Thetis ambled over, looking older and greyer than last time Celia had seen him. Phi’s father picked up the instruction booklet and flicked through it for a few moments. “It might help if you had the poles the right way up, son.”

 Finn stared at him, then said, “Oh.”

 Mr Thetis gave him a little smile. “Always read the manual. It’s a good rule for life.”

 “Except for the things that don’t have manuals,” said a dry voice that was unmistakable. Celia turned to see her mother stride through the gate, bottle of wine tucked under her arm, still in her suit. “Which is all the important stuff, unfortunately. Sorry I’m late. Who are the new neighbours?”

 Mrs Farrier perked up. “We have new neighbours?”

 “Mmm. The van’s across the road and they have the most beautiful sportscar.”

 Celia and Phi swapped looks. “We’ll investigate,” announced Celia.

 “Try to be subtle,” her mother advised. Then she gave her quick smile. “But we want the details.”

~*~  
  
 It certainly was a shiny car, but Celia wasn’t convinced there was anything beautiful about the slanting red metal and tinted glass. If anything, it looked vaguely demonic.

 She and Phi sat on the porch, digging through a plate of cake. “I didn’t think your dad was going to come tonight,” Celia said softly.

 “Neither did he, but your mom rang up and coaxed him into it.”

 “Nagged him into it, you mean.” She loved her mother fiercely, but there was no denying that Jodie Slone was a force to be reckoned with. “At least Finn made him smile.”

  Phi’s mouth curved, an echo of her father. “Yeah. First time in ages. Guess he’s good for something after all.”

 A man got out of the sportscar. He had dark hair and a certain sleek way of moving that Celia recognised. “He must be Nightworld.”

 “Vampire or shapeshifter?” Phi squinted. “Vampire, I think. They haven’t got much stuff.”

 “Weird.” A few bits of furniture, a couple of boxes. The man was opening the passenger door, and a woman eased herself out. When she swayed, the man looped an arm around her, but she jolted away and he stepped back, hands up as if she were a wild animal ready to tear at him. “And so’s that.”

 “Yeah. She seems kind of...tense.”

 “Because she is,” said Riose, coming to join them. Celia shunted up to make room. “That’s Aurenna Ravija. And he’s Kurt Schrader.”

 “Is that supposed to mean something?” she asked. Riose didn’t look on edge, hands linked between his knees, but his eyes were following the couple’s every move.

 “They’re both Nightfire. And they don’t get on.”

 “Nightfire as in...” said Phi, an edge to her voice.

 “As in assassins, yeah.” He sounded a touch puzzled, almost nonchalant as he chattered about death for hire as if it were an everyday occurrence. Which, she supposed, it had been for him. “I don’t know what they’re doing together, or why they’re here.”

 The woman was at the front door, turning and waving a hand. Then the back door on the roadster burst open and a girl swung out in one sinuous move.

 She was petite and slender, silky black hair rippling around her. From here, it was quite obvious that she was drop-dead gorgeous, even with the scowl she wore. She, Celia thought, was going to throw a hell of a curveball into the high school hierarchy when she started.

 “Who’s _that_?” said Finn from behind them.

 “Whoever she is, she’s got two assassins as chaperones,” Celia warned the witch.

 “So she really is to die for?” Finn said to a chorus of groans. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. Well. What me and Ri are thinking.”

 “Actually I was thinking that whoever she is, she’s carrying,” said Riose.

 She wasn’t sure what was more unnerving: that the girl had a gun on her, or that Ri had spotted it from this distance.

 “That’s kind of hot,” murmured Finn.

 “You need help,” Phi informed him. “She’s the dangerous type.”

 “She’s my type,” the witch said. “Now we just need to find out if I’m hers.”

 “Ginger teenage pyros is a pretty niche category, Finn,” Celia warned.

 He grinned. “Yeah, but there’s someone for everyone. She might just be my someone.”

 “Why don’t we find out?” she said a touch mischievously, and bounced to her feet. “How about I invite her to the party?”

 The girl spotted her first. She didn’t move from where she leant against the passenger door, ankles crossed, the adults a flurry of activity around her. Her expression was one of absolute disinterest; Celia suspected that took a lot of practice in front of a mirror.

 Unperturbed, Celia beamed at her. “Hi! I see you guys are moving in and thought I’d be the first of your many, many nosy neighbours to introduce myself. Also, I have cake.”

 The girl raised an eyebrow. “What kind of cake?”

 “Carrot and orange. I’m Celia, by the way. Celia Slone.”

 The silence lingered so long it was past awkward and fast becoming bizarre before the girl said curtly, “Sunita Halaria. Everyone calls me Sunny.”

 “That’s...” Don’t say ironic, don’t say ironic. “Nice.”

 “Making friends already, sunshine?” remarked the man. He had a stern cast to his face made more severe by the way he towered over them both. “I’m Kurt, Sunny’s father.”

 “Adopted father,” corrected Sunny, but there was no bite on the words; in fact, they drew a soft smile from the man, as if she’d complimented him. “This is Celia. She’s the scout.”

 Kurt nodded thoughtfully. “That implies there’s cavalry waiting. Let me guess – those are your friends on the porch over the road?”

 “Yeah. Birthday barbecue. You guys could come over for a drink and an interrogation, if you want?”

 He arched an eyebrow. “You’re very frank.”

 Celia grinned. “Everyone thinks that, then they meet my mom and realise I’m the tactful one. She thinks your car’s amazing, by the way.”

 He patted the hood. “That’s because it is. Thanks for the offer. We won’t take you up on it today, but if it’s still open later, I’ll pretend I’m interesting while you shine lights in my eyes. And maybe you could keep an eye on Sunny when she starts school tomorrow-”

 “I can find my own friends!” snapped Sunny.

 Kurt gave her a very long look. “Really.”

 A dark flush rose on her cheekbones. She turned a sour face to Celia and said, “I’ll take the cake. I can tell I’m going to need it.” She huffed a sigh. “And...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 Celia had a brief internal struggle, then she glanced back at her friends and saw Finn’s hopeful expression. “My friend’s having a party on a Friday. Why don’t you come to that? It’s kind of an event now. Half the school will be there. You can come to mine and we’ll go together.”

 Sunny looked taken aback, as if no one had ever asked her to a party before. “Um. Okay. Thanks.”

 “Don’t thank me yet. Finn’s parties are-” Celia caught Kurt’s raised eyebrows. “-completely dull. Nothing happens. There’s definitely zero chance of something exploding.”

 “Uh-huh,” he said. “Let me guess. You all sit around and talk. Quietly. About philosophy, and the meaning of life.”

 “You got it,” she said brightly.

 His eyes danced. He reminded her a bit of Finn’s mother when she was about to suggest something outrageous. “Then far be it from me to keep Sunny from the cream of society.”

 “I can go?” Sunny said suspiciously.

 “You can go. Just remember to lie convincingly about all the things you haven’t done. And definitely don’t tell Renna.”

 “Don’t tell me what?” came a new, cool voice. The woman that Riose had called Aurenna joined them, but Celia noticed she walked the extra couple of steps to put Sunny between herself and Kurt. And from the sudden tautness of his face, that mattered to him. “Oh, meeting the neighbours?”

 “Celia, this is Aurenna Ravija,” said Kurt. “Sunny’s adopted mother.”

 As if they were mere acquaintances. How on earth did they end up as Sunny’s parents when they couldn’t even stand next to each other?

  “Have you lived here long?” asked Aurenna, and Celia gladly jumped onto the small talk, filling the air with meaningless chatter as Kurt melted back to unpacking, and Sunny watched him go with a frown. Then, promising she’d meet Sunny tomorrow to help her run the gauntlet of being the new girl, Celia left them.

  As she climbed back onto the porch, Finn demanded, “Well?”

“Happy birthday, Farrier,” she told him. “Just don’t be too surprised if she doesn’t jump naked out of a cake.”

~*~

 The night was bright and clear, sequined with a multitude of stars. Celia gazed up at it from the oversized garden sofa, one shoe dangling lazily from her foot. Their parents were getting louder by the minute, mostly due to Mr Farrier cracking open his fabled wine cellar. Finn and Jo were in the middle of a tense game of jenga, and Phi was refereeing with the diligence of a UN observer in a warzone.

 “Any room on there?”

 She glanced over. “Depends. Is that Mrs Farrier’s Death by Diabetic Coma punch?”

 Riose raised the glass, which was the glorious red of unnatural additives. “What else?”

 “Then there’s room.” She slithered over and felt his weight sink into the ancient cushions, plush as marshmallows. “You’ve been quiet all evening.”

 “I’m worried.” He sighed. “I keep telling myself I shouldn’t be – that the graffiti doesn’t matter, but...”

 “But?”

 “Grace has never hidden what she is. And you – me – I mean, when that whole business was going on with Phi, none of us were too cautious. But Nessa? Nessa’s practically human. She wants to be.”

 “Does she?” she said, startled.

 He cut a quick sideways glance at her. “Some bad things happened to her parents. That’s why she’s living with her aunt and uncle. She’s never used her magic.”

 “Maybe she was careless. It only has to be once.”

 “No. She’s never used it. Not even once. Witches that use magic, they have a feel.” His hands sketched vague shapes. “I’d never met one that didn’t use their powers until Ness. It took me months to figure it out.”

 She felt her stomach squirm, the first stirrings of unease. “So how did they know about her?”

 “That’s the question.”

 He didn’t have an answer. His tone said he didn’t like it one bit. Neither did she.

 Celia took a sip of the punch, all warmth and sugar with a little kick of heat. The jenga tower clattered down to Finn’s victorious whoop and she said, “He’s going to be insufferable now.”

 He accepted the change of subject. “We could challenge him to another game. You know – nip it in the bud.”

 “It’s for the good of society,” she agreed solemnly.

 Riose stood and then pulled her out of the couch’s embrace. She staggered, and he was there, hand overlapping hers to save her drink, the other on her waist, as if they were suddenly partners in some wild dance. In the twilight, his eyes were dark and unfathomable, echoes of the sea.

 She was aware of every beat of her heart, thunder in her blood.

 “Good catch!” hollered her mother, and Ri let go with a half-smile, his grasp slipping away as if it was nothing.

 Of course it was nothing. What else would it be?

~*~

  Midnight was sweeping in like black velvet as she and Phi left. Her mother had ordered her home with a cry of “school tomorrow!”, which might have had more impact if she hadn’t accidentally hurled half a glass of wine onto the lawn at the same time.

 “Aren’t we supposed to be the ones getting smashed and staying up late?” she grumbled.

 Phi shrugged. “Hang on for Friday. Finn was muttering about flaming sambucas and fireworks.”

 Oh god. “Tell me he’s not lighting them, because I can think of at least ten ways that can go horribly wrong.”

 “I could, but it would be an enormous lie.”

 “Guess I’ll have to find a strapping man to nobly throw himself on top of me if it all goes bang then.” She nudged Phi. “Any suggestions?”

 “How about Mike Stanislov? He’s pretty strapping. And he keeps trying to talk to you after class.”

 “Yeah, and if he was anymore into himself, he’d implode. When Finn’s fireworks go wrong, which one of us do you think he’d expect to be the human shield?”

 Phi’s grin flickered in the gloom. “You. Okay. What about Will Ratner, then? There’s no way he needs your help as much as he keeps pretending in labs.”

 She couldn’t hide a small smile. “Yeah, I’d noticed. And he’s cute.”

 “Kind of serious though.”

 “Serious is good. Serious is what you need in an emergency, and there’s no way having Finn light a bunch of incendiary devices isn’t going to be an emergency.”

 “So you’re saying Will Ratner is the guy to call on in a zombie apocalypse?”

  Celia snorted. “No chance! Riose is my go-to guy for zombies, wars, invasions and other foul play. But we both know Riose is going to be stood right next to Finn when he starts getting all sparky, probably losing his eyebrows again.”

 “Bros before brows,” Phi said, and that sent them both into fits of laughter. Everything felt normal again: simple, safe, right.

 Then they rounded the corner, and just like that, her certainty was gone.

Blue lights revolved on the police car pulled up to the kerb. Onlookers were clumped in doorways and beside their fences, all looking as wary as she felt because crime happened to other people in other places. Not here.

 Celia felt a funny little lurch in her heart as she took in the details: a broken window, shiny shards clinging like teeth to the frame, and words sprayed on the door in what had to be yellow paint.

_Open season._

 But worse...there was something – something covered with a towel, humped on the porch. Dark stains had leached through the material, and suddenly the silly tag on her locker didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

“Not again,” said Phi beside her. “Whose house is it?”

 “Mine,” said a flat, sad voice, and Celia was so unused to hearing Arch defeated that she didn’t recognise him until he stood up from where he was sunk on the sidewalk. “They put a brick through the window. My mom’s in bits.”

 “Are you okay?” she said. “Can we...can we do anything?”

 It felt like a stupid question. Nothing they could do would take away the words or the broken glass or the sudden realisation that in an instant your life could derail and leave you sat on a sidewalk in the vast shadow of faceless, nameless malice.

 “Thanks. But no.” His eyes were fixed on the floor, jaw clenched. “Maybe Ness will believe it wasn’t me now. Some silver lining.”

 “What do they want?” she said, feeling like she should be angry instead of small and afraid. Her skin was as clammy as if she’d been lying on damp sheets.

 “To spread their gospel, I guess,” said Arch bitterly. “Whatever the hell it is. Grace got a dead fish. They went one up with me.”

 She didn’t want to know: she needed to. “What did they do?”

 “Dead rabbit.” His voice was a monotone. “Skinned. Sick bastards.”

 “No. Oh god. I’m so sorry.”

 “Not as sorry as they’ll be if I find them.” He took a huge, shuddering breath. “I should go and look after my mom and sister. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 Their soft goodbyes went unheard.

 “Let’s get home,” said Phi. “I don’t want to be around here anymore.”

 “I’ll get my brother to walk you back,” she said. “He needs the exercise.”

 She’d offered before and Phi had always laughed it off. Now she gazed out into the dark, and said, “You think they’d go after me?”

 “I don’t know,” Celia answered. “But don’t risk it.”

 She didn’t say: you’re human now, Phi. You aren’t faster or stronger or more powerful than them. She didn’t say: they hate you, and me, all of us. I don’t know why, but it doesn’t matter, does it?

They’re tired of words. Now it’s bricks and broken things, and the next thing they break might be us.

 “You’re sure Billy won’t mind?” her best friend said hesitantly.

 “Of course he’ll mind. He’s a jerk. But he’ll do it.”

 Billy did whine and snarl and snap when they woke him up – but when he looked out to see the flashes of blue splintering the gloom like lightning, he put on his sneakers and took Phi home with hardly a grumble. He felt it too: the dark that had once been as soft and familiar as a toy blanket was now an army of shadows that could hide anything, anyone.

For the first time in years, Celia locked her bedroom door.

 _He's there in the dark, he's there in my heart_  
_He waits in the wings, he’s gotta play a part_  
_Trouble is a friend, yeah, trouble is a friend of mine_  
_So don’t be alarmed if he takes you by the arm_  
_I won’t let him win but I’m a sucker for his charm_  
_Trouble is a friend, yeah, trouble is a friend of mine._

~*~


End file.
